


Proofing Water

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of spousal abuse, Slapdashing mixing of MCU characters from different timelines with no explanation offered, implied past Peggy/Other, implied past Steve/Other, mentions of really sketchy mental health treatment, people generally being awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7012003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Peggy walked out of Steve’s life forever, she walks back in.</p><p>  <i>Steve glanced in the mirror behind the bar and caught something at the edge of his vision.  He immediately stared down at the bartop, smiling tightly.  Three fucking years and he still caught ghosts of her.  He knew from the glance that it was a brunette in a red dress.  Truth told, they were a dime a dozen.  And they were never his brunette in a red dress.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Steggy Positivity Week on Tumblr.
> 
> #steggyweek2K16
> 
> “Whiskey is good proofing water. It tells you who’s real and who isn’t.”  
> \- Thomas Shelby in Peaky Blinders

Clint clapped Steve on the back, nearly causing him to spill his drink.  “You need a wife,” Clint said, sagely.  “I have a cousin.  She’s beautiful, but evil.  She’ll make your life hell.  It’ll be great.”

 

Steve shook his head and took a drink.   “As swell as the offer sounds, I’ll pass.”

 

“You too good for a circus girl?” Clint asked, mock hurt. 

 

“Steve likes rich girls,” Bucky said, smirking.

 

Steve didn’t bother denying it.  He didn’t have a thing for rich girls.  And the truth was, Steve wasn’t too good for Clint’s cousin.  Steve came from nothing.  He didn’t have any family to speak of.  He envied Clint and his circus performing relatives.  At least they had each other.

 

But Steve wasn’t in the market for a wife.  He liked women.  He prefered that they not reek of the fear and poverty that was so common after all the soldiers came home from war and stripped women’s hard won independence from them.  The truth was, Steve liked rich girls because all they wanted from him was a good time.  He wasn’t their ticket to anything.  They said he made the feel alive.  They liked to thumb their noses at their families, make a scene by showing up on the arm of someone like him.  What did it matter to him?  In the dark, they were all the same.

 

* * *

 

The club was crowded, the air thick with smoke.  Grace pulled him along in her wake.  Steve pretended not to notice the way heads turned as they passed.  People knew him by reputation.  The war had changed everything, turned his world upside down even as he fought to right it.  He gained notoriety.  And lost parts of himself in the process.

 

The evening wore on, loud music, raucous crowd.  Grace was a beautiful woman and he wanted her, but he wasn’t particularly enjoying the evening.  Excusing himself, Steve headed for the bar under the pretense of getting another round.  Truthfully, he wanted to be away from the table for a while.

 

He gave the order to the bartender and waited, pretending not to notice the way heads turned toward him.  Such a far cry from his days as a performing monkey with the ‘aw shucks’ charm and the squeaky clean schoolboy looks.  

 

The final volleys of the war were the death knell for that persona.  It got bloody, so bloody.  Steve knew that people viewed him with equal parts, awe and fear.  He knew he made them uncomfortable, especially now in the midst of prosperous peace.  

 

Five years since the war ended.  It was ancient history.  People didn’t like to be reminded.  Everyone was moving on with their lives.  They didn’t like to think of what exactly the victory had cost them, and the men who fought.

 

Steve glanced in the mirror behind the bar and caught something at the edge of his vision.  He immediately stared down at the bartop, smiling tightly.  Three fucking years and he still caught ghosts of her.  He knew from the glance that it was a brunette in a red dress.  Truth told, they were a dime a dozen.  And they were never  _ his _ brunette in a red dress.

 

She left.  Left him.  Left the country.  Married according to her station and ambition.  And he was the poor bastard who kept seeing her everywhere he looked.  

 

The bartender set the drinks in front of Steve and he took two of the whiskeys, downing them immediately and motioning for the bartender to pour again.

 

Taking a deep breath, Steve turned his head, forcing himself to look.  

 

“ _ Fuck _ .”

 

She turned, just as he cursed.  For a moment, she was so very still and then her eyes lit with something.  She turned, smiling at her companion and stepping away.  She looked at Steve, arching an eyebrow and disappeared around the corner of the bar.

 

Steve took a few bills out of his wallet and tossed them down next to the drinks.  He told the bartender to have one of the girls take them to the table.

 

And he followed.

 

* * *

 

The hallway was dark, lined with doors leading to the club office, storage rooms, the usual.  She was waiting there, at the end of the hall, leaning against the doorjamb.  He stepped closer and she immediately reached out, grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him close.  She kissed him and he met her eagerly.  He ushered her through the door, closing it behind them.  A storage room, empty, save them.

 

“ _ Peggy _ ,” he groaned, his hands roaming over her body.

 

She kissed him again, biting at his lips, her hands pushing at his jacket.  He shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor.  She tugged his shirt free of his trousers, running her hands up under the material, her breath catching as she pressed closer.  “ _ Steve _ .”  

 

Her tone was somewhere between a complaint and a request.  She pulled him over a few steps, to where cases of liquor were stacked.  He watched in the dim light as she reached under her dress, skimming her panties down her legs, shoving them into her clutch before she tossed it to the floor.  Then she sat on the edge of the crate and pulled him close, parting her legs so he could stand between them.

 

He kissed her hungrily, his hands skimming over her body, cupping her breasts through the silky material of her dress.  “When did you get back?” he demanded, his eyes screwing shut as she went to work on the fly of his trousers.

 

“Two weeks ago,” she said, unbuttoning him.

 

“Where is he?” Steve growled.

 

She worked the material down Steve’s hips and took him in hand, stroking him firmly.  She looked up at him, holding up her left hand.  “Do you see a ring?”

 

Point of fact, Steve did not see a ring.  He didn’t even see the indentation of where one would have been had a married woman slipped the jewelry off for the night.  But he did see the delicate gold watch that circled her wrist, and the simple gold chain around her neck.  Both gifts he’d given her, though that felt like a lifetime ago.

 

She shifted on the crate, drawing up her knees, pulling him closer.

 

“I have a rubber,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

 

She took him in hand again, guiding him to her.  “No need,” she said, urging him to press closer.

 

Steve didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but he didn’t care either.  He pushed into her, his breath catching even as she let out a breathy moan.  Jesus he’d missed her.  He had no idea what it meant in the big picture, her here, sans wedding ring, but he wasn’t going to question it.

 

He drove into her, drunk on the smell of her, the feel of her.  Peggy had always been a talker and she did not disappoint.  The sound of her voice, the filthy things she told him, mixed with the bite of her fingernails into the skin of his back.  And the knowledge that it was  _ her _ .  The woman he’d imagined as he bedded others.  He was close.  She tightened around him, rolling her hips as she bit his shoulder hard.  He couldn’t hold back.  He grunted, burying himself in her as he came.

 

She held him close, legs wrapped around his waist, her hand toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, as he waited for the world to right itself.  He cursed softly, turning his head to capture her lips.  He withdrew, his hand replacing his cock as he stroked her.  She whimpered, a soft, helpless sound and Steve had the distinct impression that she was out of the habit of fucking a partner who cared about her pleasure.

 

It didn’t take much.  He knew she was close.  In short order, she was clawing at his back again, burying her face against his shoulder as she trembled in his arms.

 

He held her for a long time, but she eventually pulled away.  They both straightened their clothing.

 

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

 

“Married,” she replied dryly.

 

“Still?”

 

She looked at him in the dim light.  “No,” she said quietly.  “It’s done.”

 

“Kids?”

 

She snorted.  “Decidedly not.”

 

Steve frowned.  “What does that mean?”

 

“It means I can’t have any,” she said flatly.  She looked up at him, her expression challenging.  “It’s why I told you not to bother with the rubber.  Though if you’re going to continue screwing Grace fucking Dow, then I might have to reconsider that.  Really, Steve.   _ Her _ ?”

 

He didn’t say anything.  Considering Peggy just dragged him into a storage room without a word and did him over good, he wasn’t sure she was exactly entitled to make judgments about Grace’s character.  But he was not about to say that out loud.  Instead, he opted for, “Provided you’re available, I don’t want anybody else.”

 

She looked at him, appraising.  “And if I’m not.”

 

He shrugged.  “I get lonely.  I don’t like to be lonely.”

 

She rolled her eyes.  “Then I guess I’ll have to make certain you don’t get lonely.”

 

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but he knew Peggy well enough to know that this was as close as he was likely to get right now.  He took it as a victory, pulling her close, kissing her again.  “I missed you,” he said.

 

She didn’t reply, but she held him tighter.

 

* * *

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Steve said, glowering as he climbed over the windowsill and stepped gingerly into the room.

 

“Be quiet,” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the bedroom door.

 

“Do you have any idea how old I am?” Steve demanded, knowing full well that Peggy knew how old he was.  They were the same age.  “I do not climb up terraces and sneak in windows like a damn kid.”

 

She gave him a wry smile.  “Apparently you do.”

 

He growled, but reached for her, pulling her close and kissing her hard.  She smiled against his lips.  He started pulling her toward the bed, but she shook her head.  As Steve watched, Peggy took the pillows and blankets off the bed, laying them on the floor.

 

He blinked at her.  “You’re kidding.”

 

“The bed squeaks,” she said.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed, but let her pull him down to the floor.  They undressed quickly and he pulled her close.  “Why are you living with your aunt?” 

 

“Shut up and fuck me,” she countered.  “Quietly.”

 

Steve did shut up and fuck her.  Mostly quietly, though that was on her, not him.  She’d actually bit him when he clapped his hand over her mouth.  

 

They eventually moved to the bed.  Steve tried to talk to her again, but she just curled against him, silent.  Steve looked around the little room.  Her aunt lived in a mansion.  It was definitely the nicest place Steve had ever been in - even if he had entered via the window.  Unlike Howard’s place, Peggy’s aunt’s home had a presence.  Old money.  Power.  Not Howard’s flashy investments, decorated at exorbitant cost to make it look like he had taste.

 

But even though the house and property were magnificent, Peggy’s room was sad, small.  It was furnished sparsely.  A small, single bed.  A desk.  Not much else.  There were no decorations and the open door of the wardrobe showed it was mostly empty.  It was a far cry from the frantic energy of the apartment in the West Village that Peggy used to share with a half dozen roommates.

 

It was clear that Peggy didn’t want to get into the details of what had happened since he last saw her.  Steve fully intended to get to the bottom of it, but he knew it didn’t have to happen tonight.

 

* * *

 

The cry woke him instantly.  He sat up, scanning the unfamiliar room.  Then he saw her, Peggy, next to him in bed, in the throes of a nightmare.  He touched her gently, trying to wake her.  When that didn’t work, he shook her shoulder.

 

She woke with a start and a scream.  Her eyes were wild, terrified as she stared at him.  He could see when it hit her, who he was, where she was.  She let out a shaky breath, trembling all over, reaching for him.

 

There was a sharp knock on the door.  “Miss?  Miss, should I get your medicine?”

 

“No, Lottie,” Peggy called, voice edged with hysteria.  “I’m fine.  Thank you.  Go back to sleep.”

 

“But the rules, Miss.”

 

Peggy climbed out of the bed, wrapping herself in a robe.  She opened the door, careful to situate herself in the doorway so the over eager maid couldn’t see him.  “I’m fine, Lottie.  Really.”

 

“Miss, your aunt was clear.  I should get your brother, or the doctor.”

 

“Lottie, I’m fine.  Really,” Peggy said firmly.  “It was just a dream.  I think we should both get some sleep.”

 

Steve could tell Lottie wasn’t convinced, but the girl sounded tired.  She eventually relented.  Peggy shut and locked the door again, returning to the bed.  He didn’t miss the fact that she faced away from him.  Sighing, Steve ran his hand over her back, noticing for the first time that there were several new scars she hadn’t had the last time they were together.

 

Without saying anything, he pulled her closer.

 

* * *

 

Steve woke shortly before dawn.  Peggy was sleeping peacefully in his arms and he simply watched her for several long minutes.  She was still the most beautiful, beguiling woman he had ever known.  Three years apart had, in no way, dampened his desire for her.

 

Ducking his head, he woke her with lazy kisses and soft touches.

 

The sun was cresting the horizon by the time he finally climbed out the window.

 

* * *

 

Peggy looked up as Michael entered the dining room.  He filled his plate and sat down with the paper, glancing over at her.  “One assumes that Rogers must have his own lodgings,” he said quietly.  “Next time go there.”

 

Peggy looked at him with a guileless expression.  “Pardon?”

 

“Jesus, Peg, the floorboards creak worse than the bed.”  He pursed his lips at her, frowning.  His tone was deadly serious when he said, “You know what’s going to happen if Agnes learns of your sedition.”

 

“Oh yes,” Peggy said gravely.  “My sedition.  My horrid stubborn will.  Such a blight on the family honor.”

 

Michael’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

 

“I remember,” Peggy said wistfully, “when my force of personality was cause for pride, rather than something that needed to be treated.”

 

“Peggy,” he said quietly.  “Please don’t start.”

 

“Indeed,” she said.  “I know how upsetting everyone finds it when I emote.  Well, do let me know, Michael, how to react appropriately.  I know how terribly inconvenient it is when I have an episode.”

 

Michael frowned, chastened.  “Peggy, you know I don’t hold with what happened to you.”

 

“I can’t begin to tell you what an utter relief that is,” she said bitterly, “that you don’t  _ hold _ with what happened to me.  Which part, in specific, are you referencing?  Are you talking about the things that Fred did?  Or Father and Mildred?  Or the doctors, perhaps?  Which part, precisely?”

 

“Peggy,” he started quietly.

 

“Oh bugger off,” she snapped.

 

* * *

 

As a decorated war hero, Steve was more than welcome at the club, even if both he and the club members knew that they preferred he didn’t come.  Typically Steve wouldn’t have bothered.  An afternoon social, held for the purpose of allowing club members to take respectable young ladies out for the day held absolutely no appeal.

 

But Steve knew Peggy was going to be there.  Privately, he thought she had even less business there than him, but he didn’t argue.  He wanted to see her.

 

It took no time to spot her, though she wasn’t wearing her usual attire.  The dress was cream colored and demure.  Steve was struck by how thin she was.  He’d noticed last night, but the cut of the dress made it particularly striking.  If she was wearing cosmetics, they were barely noticeable.  The overall effect made her appear incredibly young.

 

For several minutes, Steve simply watched, assessing the situation.  Michael was with her, playing the good guard dog, never more than a few paces from her side.  Peggy looked out of it.  Steve assumed she must be medicated.  She wasn’t drunk.  When Peggy’d been drinking, she got louder, not quieter, and certainly not more tractable.  Steve had copious amounts of first hand experience with this issue.

 

Michael leaned over and whispered something in Peggy’s ear.  They moved to a table and sat down.  Michael spoke to her for several minutes, though Peggy didn’t appear to be responding.  Frowning, Michael placed his hand over hers for a moment and then stood up and left.  Peggy sat there, staring at the table top.

 

Steve crossed the room to her and took a seat, cutting off at least one guy who had been planning the same course of action.  Peggy blinked at him and winced, but then smiled.  “Don’t be surprised when Michael takes you aside to explain things.”

 

“I don’t think I need an explanation from him,” Steve countered.

 

“Neither do I,” Peggy said feelingly, “but it never stops him.”

 

“ _ Bloody hell _ .”

 

“Speak of the devil,” Peggy said, giving Steve a tight smile.  

 

Michael stood there, glowering at them both.  “Shove off, Rogers.”

 

Steve gave him his best innocent look.  “I’m just having a private word with Miss Carter.”

 

“ _ Mrs. Wentworth _ ,” Peggy corrected tightly, patting Steve’s arm as she scowled up at Michael.

 

“Ah,” Steve said, trying to hide his irritation, “so playing the divorcee card to its fullest, then?”

 

Steve heard Michael suck in a tight breath.  Peggy frowned.  “ _ Widow _ , actually,” she said.  She leaned in conspiratorially, “Though the family doesn’t like it when I use that term.”

 

Steve blinked at her.  Fred was dead?  “Why not?” he asked numbly.

 

She gave him a tight smile.  “Because I killed him.”

 

“All right.  Enough,” Michael snapped.  He hauled Peggy out of her chair and started for the door.  Steve sat there, blinking at them.  They were at the door before he pushed himself to his feet and went in pursuit.

 

Michael was helping Peggy into the car when Steve found them in the parking lot.  Predictably, Michael turned toward Steve, well out of earshot from Peggy.  “Stay out of it,” Michael snarled.  “You have no idea what’s going on and the last thing Peggy needs right now is you.”

 

Steve just looked at him.  He wasn’t afraid of Michael Carter.  “I think I’ll let Peggy be the judge of that.”

 

Michael shook his head with disgust.  “So bloody arrogant.  I’m sure it’s fun for you,” he snapped.  “All the while you’re ruining her life.”

 

Steve laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.  “How could I possibly be ruining her life?” he asked.  “We’re two adults with a mutual desire to spend time together.  I’m a goddamn national treasure.  My driving record is cleaner than hers.”

 

Michael glowered.  “I don’t know what she told you, or rather, didn’t tell you, but this isn’t a laughing matter.  Peggy has very strict behavioral parameters to which she must adhere or - “  He fell silent looking away.  He turned back to Steve.  “If any part of you truly cares for her, you’ll stay away.”

  
END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

“Peggy Carter,” Natasha said.  She looked up at Steve, leaning back in her chair.  It was early morning and the detective office wasn’t officially open yet, but she owed Steve a favor.  “So Margaret Carter?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, distracted, flopping down into the chair.  He glanced at Hill’s office.  She wasn’t in yet.  “Margaret Carter.  She’s English.  Originally from Hampstead.  See what you can find.”  He cursed.  “Wentworth.  Margaret _Wentworth_.”

 

Natasha frowned at him in question.  “You don’t know her name?”

 

“She was married,” he said.  “To Frederick Wentworth, who is apparently now deceased.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Natasha said, whistling.  “I mean, I assumed your love life was a disaster, Rogers, but well done.  I had money on you knocking up some teenage debutant, but the shady English widow is way more interesting.”

 

“Just see what you can find,” he said dryly.  “I know when they first married they went to Sokovia, but after that, I have no idea.  She said she’s been back in New York for a couple of weeks.  I want to know what’s going on.”

 

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Natasha pushed.

 

Steve frowned, refusing to answer.

 

“You could just ask her,” Natasha said, arching an eyebrow.

 

“For your information, I have asked her,” Steve said sourly.  “She’s not the most forthcoming individual you’ve ever met.”

 

Natasha shook her head, clearly amused.  “You know, sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

 

“Not this time,” he said flatly.

 

“I’ll let you know when I find something.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was getting ready to head out for the night.  He opened the door and stepped outside, finding Peggy standing on his stoop.  He looked at her.  “Michael told me that if I care about you, I’ll stay away.”

 

“Ah,” she said.  “I didn’t realize you were in the habit of taking life advice from my brother.”

 

Steve shrugged.  “I’m not.”  He held open the door, waiting until Peggy stepped inside.

 

* * *

 

They lounged together in his bed.  Steve’s place wasn’t much.  A small shotgun apartment.  One bedroom, a bathroom.  A kitchen that was more of a hallway.  But no one had to crawl in the window or sneak past a protective older brother.  The bed squeaked, but Steve didn’t give a rat’s ass if the neighbors cared.

 

Peggy was curled against his chest and his hand traced lightly up and down her back.  “Where do they think you are?” he asked.

 

“At a picture,” she said, sounding sleepy and content.  “I need to be home in a little while.”

 

Steve took a deep breath.  “Michael said something about behavioral parameters.”

 

Groaning, Peggy pushed herself up into a sitting position.  She threw her legs over the side of the bed and started getting dressed.

 

He lay there, watching her shimmy into her dress.  “So that’s how it is,” he said.  “I’m expected to drop everything any time you want to fuck, but I ask questions and you bolt.”

 

She fastened the belt on her dress, not looking at him.  “If the arrangement isn’t to your liking,” she said haughtily, “I’m sure you can find another.  I know I can.”

 

“Jesus,” he swore, irritated, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  “We don’t have an arrangement, Peggy.  You jumped me in a storage room and I fuck you when you want it.”

 

She frowned at him.

 

He took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair.  This conversation was going nowhere fast.  “Look,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry.  About everything.  From ... before.”

 

She looked away, shaking her head.  “Me too.”  She took a deep breath, straightening her spine.  “But there’s nothing that can be done for the past.  The only thing we can do is more forward.”

 

“Am I part of your future then?” he asked.

 

She looked at him and then away.  “Probably not.”

 

He ground his teeth together.

 

“It’s why I’m here,” she said.  “In America.  To renew some beneficial friendships, but mostly to find a husband.”  She glanced over her shoulder at him.  “Father and Mildred assume that Americans have lower standards.”  She smiled nastily.  “Per doctor's orders, I’m to find _a good man_.  Someone who can be patient with me.  Preferably a widower, saddled with children he can’t handle.  Someone who won’t ask a lot of questions, but will be grateful for the help.  One assumes that the old, short, fat and balding attributes are implied.  Dimwitted as well.”

 

Steve looked at her, frowning.  “So your dad and stepmother sent you here to get remarried?”  He shook his head.  “Since when are they in charge of you?”

 

Peggy tried to smooth down her unruly curls.  “Since they paid the hush money for my little accident in Sokovia.”

 

“Accident?”

 

She looked at him.  “I was holding a knife.  Fred fell on it.  Repeatedly.”  She looked away, face pinched.  “Truth told, I don’t remember it very clearly.  It all happened so fast.  There are a great many things I can’t remember clearly.”

 

Steve shook his head, wincing.  “What the fuck is going on, Peggy?”

 

Now dressed, she leaned over and kissed him.  It was a lustful, lingering kiss and he curved his hand around the back of her skull, pulling her closer.  With a groan of regret, she broke away.  Taking a deep breath, she frowned at him.  “Stay away from the club.  Despite how it may seem, Michael is my only ally.  And he won’t be for long if he feels like he has to continually chase you off.”

 

“So he thinks I’m out of the picture?” Steve asked.

 

“I doubt it,” Peggy said dryly.  “He just doesn’t want to have to look at it.  This way he can answer Father’s questions without outright lying.”

 

“And you?” Steve asked.

 

“Oh, I don’t have any problem lying,” she said brightly.

 

* * *

 

“You are not going to believe this,” Natasha said brightly.

 

“She killed her husband,” Steve countered, taking a seat.

 

“Goddammit, Rogers.  Why do you ask me to find information if you already have it?”

 

“It was a recent acquisition,” he said, taking the file from Natasha’s hand.  He leafed through the pages.  “The Sokovian authorities wanted to try her for murder.”

 

“She said it was self-defense.”

 

Steve always thought Peggy’s husband was a bore.  A man with a small mind and few ambitions.  He never struck Steve as the violent type.  But if Peggy did kill him, Steve had no doubt that Fred did something to warrant her reaction.  “The Sokovians didn’t see it that way?”

 

“I think the sheer volume of stab wounds gave them pause,” Natasha said carefully.  Steve looked at her over the top of the file.  “I’m not saying it wasn’t self-defense.  There are enough medical records in there that make it look like he had it coming.  What I’m saying is that self-defense or not, she was really pissed off.”

 

Steve glanced at the medical records.  They were in Sokovian, which he couldn’t read.  But there were drawings, the generic outline of a body, filled in with what was presumably the source of Peggy’s injuries.  There were pages and pages, spread across the eighteen months of her marriage.  He shook his head.  How had this happened?  “She's not rotting in a Sokovian prison, so what happened?”

 

“Presumably her father’s money happened,” Natasha said.  “The Sokovian authorities released her into the care of a Dr. Adams.  I assume there must have been a lot of bribes involved.”

 

“And Adams is who?” Steve pressed, flipping through pages.  There was nothing in the file on a Dr. Adams.

 

“He runs several mental health clinics,” Natasha said. “His crown jewel is situated on some estate in the bucolic English countryside.  You know, peace, quiet, laudanum.  Looks like he has a second clinic in Manhattan as well.”

 

Steve was about to reply and tell Natasha he thought she was about twenty years out of date with the laudanum crack, but then he thought about how out of it Peggy was at the club with Michael the other day.  Shit.  Maybe they did have her doped up on opiates.

 

“So what’s she doing here?” Natasha asked.  

 

“She’s looking for a husband,” Steve said sourly.

 

“Really?” Natasha asked.  “Interesting, considering what happened to the last one.  You a contender?”

 

“Nope,” he replied tightly.  

 

“God, I didn’t even bring popcorn,” she said regretfully.  “This is tragic.”

 

“Do me a favor,” Steve said.  “Find what you can on Adams.  There’s more to this story and I want to know what it is.”

 

* * *

 

Steve backed Peggy against the front door of his apartment, kissing her neck as he hiked up her dress.  It had been going on like this for weeks.  She would show up at his place, or he'd sneak in her window.  It was never enough.  Frantic couplings, stolen moments.  Once he found her having dinner with Howard.  When she went to the ladies' room, he followed and they had a quickie in a storage closet.  

 

It wasn't the kind of relationship he wanted with Peggy.  But he discovered that he'd take anything he could get.  “Is there a time limit I should be aware of?” he asked.

 

“Dawn,” she said. “I snuck out after I went to bed.”  Her fingers made quick work of the buttons of his shirt and she ran her hands over his bare chest.

 

Steve sighed, shaking his head.  “This is so fucked up, Peg.  Why do they have a say in how you live your life?”

 

She grabbed his face, kissing him.  “Stop talking and fuck me.”

 

* * *

 

Steve woke to her scream, nearly falling out of bed, grabbing for the shield he hadn’t used in years.  He managed to catch himself.  She was sitting up, shaking.  

 

Cautiously, he reached out to her and she let him pull her close.  She was trembling, her teeth chattering.  Her cheeks were wet with tears.  He cupped his hand around the back of her head, hushing her softly.  “It’s okay, Peg,” he whispered, stroking her hair.  “It’s okay.”

 

It took a long time for the shaking to stop.  When it finally did, she let out a long, shuddering breath, collapsing against him.  “I like it when you touch my hair.”

 

In the dark, he nodded.  “Nobody else does that for you?”

 

She snorted, sitting up.  “You’re the only person I’ve been with since Fred,” she said, easily reading between the lines.  “You’re not convenient, Steve.  You’re the only person I can bear to touch.”

 

Sighing, he pulled her back down against him.  She rested her head on his chest.  

 

“An associate of mine found records from your time in Sokovia,” he said carefully.  He'd waited a long time to bring this up.  “I’d rather not have to learn the language to find out what they say.  How about you tell me?”

 

“God,” she cursed, “I knew you wouldn’t leave it alone.”

 

“Yeah,” he countered.  “You did know that I wouldn’t leave it alone.  So tell me.”

 

She sighed, rolling over onto her back next to him.  He moved onto his side, pushing himself up on one elbow.  The room was very dim, but he could just make her out.  It was too dark to see any of her facial features.

 

“I’m sure you figured out the broad strokes,” she said.  “If memory serves, there are pictures in the medical files.”

 

“Yeah,” he said tightly.

 

“It’s precisely what you think, Steve,” she said, sounding exasperated.  “Fred was a brute.  I was an idiot who married him in a moment of supreme childishness.  Immediately after the wedding, his father secured him a position with the British embassy in Sokovia.  It was ... horrific.”

 

Steve reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist.

 

“I didn’t know anyone.  I didn’t speak the language.  Sokovia is even more backwards in terms of women’s liberation than both Britain and America.  I had no voice, no rights.  And he reveled in it.  He was lord and master, unequivocally.”  She laughed bitterly.  "I always knew I didn't really love Fred.  But I was completely unprepared for his violent nature.  I never saw that coming.  How?  With all my training, how did I not know?"

 

Steve shook his head.  He had no answer for her.  He hadn't suspected it either.  “Why didn’t you come home?”

 

“Pride,” she said tightly.  “At first.  And later because I couldn’t.  He had all the paperwork, all the money.  And at several points, I wasn’t physically capable.”

 

“He hurt you,” Steve said tightly.

 

“He beat the hell out of me,” Peggy said with a snort.  “Broken wrist, fractured orbital bone.  Countless bruises and cuts.”  She paused.  “I was pregnant, at one point.”  She stopped, regrouped.  “I probably wouldn’t have kept it anyway.  He attacked me.  It was vicious.  I lost the pregnancy.”  She took a deep breath.  “And now I can never have children.  It’s probably for the best.  Can you imagine?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Peggy,” Steve said.  He knew Fred was dead, but he desperately wished he wasn’t, so Steve could murder him himself.

 

“One night, he came after me and I knew.  Only one of us was getting out alive,” she said flatly.  “I decided it was going to be me.”

 

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.  He kissed her gently.  “I’m glad it was you.”

 

“Yes, well,” Peggy said, “Fred’s family wasn’t.  I’m not sure how much money my father was required to spend, but I’m led to believe it was a truly outrageous amount.  Fred’s family agreed to my release on one condition, that I be sent to a clinic, under the care of Dr. Adams.”

 

“My associate couldn’t find any records relating to that.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Peggy said quietly.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Horrors,” she said hollowly.  She reached up and touched his face.  “Things I can’t talk about.  Not even for you, Steve.”  She sighed.  “So, if I act out, or if I don’t follow their order and find some suitably sedate and malleable man to take me, Father and Mildred will send me back.”

 

“Peggy,” he said, “that’s not right.”

 

“You know what the most crushing thing was about all of this?” she asked, not waiting for a reply.  “Learning that even in our liberated age, that men and money still have all the power.  It was so easy for them to make me so very small.”

 

“No one is sending you anywhere, Peggy,” Steve said darkly.

 

She pulled him down and kissed him.  “I know,” she said evenly.  “I’d die before I went back.”

 

“Goddammit, Peggy,” he cursed.  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

 

“Yes, however, it is what _I_ mean.”

 

“Yeah, well before you off yourself, how about you give me a call?” he snapped.  “I think that would probably be easier in the long run, for everyone.”

 

She kissed him again, gently.  “I know you care.”

 

“Yeah, you bet your ass I care,” he countered.  “And you know I would have come to Sokovia and gotten you if I’d known.”

 

“Maybe I didn’t feel like being rescued,” she replied tightly.

 

“Yeah, no, I get it,” he said.  “Obviously your plan worked out really well.  Seems much easier than swallowing your pride and sending a fucking telegram.”

 

With a growl, she rolled away from him.  Equally irritated, her lay down.  He waited several minutes and then he reached out and pulled her back against him, banding his arm around her middle.  She didn’t help, but she didn’t fight.

 

“I know you hate to ask for help, but I am here for you.  No one is forcing you to go anywhere,” he said firmly.  

 

She didn’t reply, but she covered his arm with her own and burrowed into the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Peggy tiptoed up the stairs, shoes in hand.  She stopped on the landing, staring, her heart hammering in her chest.  Her aunt stood there, flanked by Lottie, and two orderlies.

 

Peggy shook her head.  “ _No_.”

 

* * *

 

Steve didn’t see Peggy the next day, which wasn’t necessarily surprising.  They didn’t have a set schedule at all.  But he didn’t see her the following day either.  Or the next.

 

The following day, Steve staked out Peggy’s aunt’s house.  He saw the aunt.  He saw Michael.  But there was no sign of Peggy.  

 

Steve was getting ready to do something.  He didn’t know what.  But something.  

 

It was just after nightfall and he arrived in time to see Peggy being helped out of a cab by two large orderlies.  Peggy looked terrible.  Small.  Quiet.  Things Peggy Carter was never meant to be.

 

Steve waited, watching from across the street.  He saw Michael leave and he followed him to the club.

 

Steve caught Michael in the parking lot, slamming him against his car with jarring force.  “What did they do to her?” 

 

Michael growled, swinging for Steve.  “I told you to leave her alone.  This is your fault.”

 

Steve easily avoided the punch.  “What did they do to her?”

 

“You have no idea,” Michael said with disgust.

 

“Actually, I do,” Steve snapped.  “I know what happened with Wentworth.  What I want to know is where the hell you people get off punishing her for doing what she had to do to survive that sadistic fuck.”

 

Michael seemed to deflate.  He sighed, leaning back against the car.  He cursed, hanging his head.  “Electroconvulsive therapy,” he said, looking up and meeting Steve’s gaze.  “It’s Adams’ favored method of treatment.”

 

“You let some animal shock her?” Steve demanded, outraged.

 

“It seems better than the drugs,” Michael said darkly.  “She’s confused for a few days.  Tired and sore.  There are gaps in her memory.  But it doesn’t steal her away the way the drugs do.”

 

Steve stared at him, repulsed.  “All for the sin of not letting her husband beat her to death?”

 

Michael swallowed harshly, looking away.  “A lobotomy is the next step,” he said, ignoring Steve’s outburst.  “If the electroconvulsive therapy is deemed ineffective.  And for the record, her sneaking out at night, failing to find a suitable match, all of these are viewed as failures.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Steve bellowed, slamming Michael back against the car.  

 

Michael looked up at him with vacant eyes.  “I know,” he said quietly.  “ _I know_.”

 

“Oh Jesus,” Steve cursed, shoving Michael away, pacing in a tight circle.  “She has to get out of there.”

 

He nodded, defeated.  “Yes.”

 

“You’re going to help me,” Steve informed him darkly.  “You’re going to help me get her out of there.”

 

“It’s not that easy,” Michael said.

 

“I took out an entire Hydra base on my own.  Your aunt Agnes and a couple of guys in white coats aren’t going to stop me.”

 

Michael laughed darkly.  “That’s not what I mean,” he said.  “I have no doubt you could storm in and abscond with Peggy.  But she has no legal autonomy at this point.  She’s a ward of my father and stepmother.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “She’s an adult.  A decorated veteran.”

 

“She was committed to a sanitarium,” Michael said.  “After Sokovia.   _That_ is who Dr. Adams is.  Peggy isn’t empowered legally to make decisions for herself.  So she can leave with you, but my father has every legal right to demand she be returned - and trust me, he will.”  

 

Michael sighed.  “I do believe that you truly care for her.  But if you charge in and take off with her, it will end badly for her.  They’ll throw her back in one of those places and no one will ever hear from her again.  I wasn’t allowed to see her until she was released.”

 

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling utterly defeated.  “We have to do something.”

 

END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy blinked blearily.  Steve.  What was Steve doing here?  He was sitting next to her on her bed.  Her head was all fuzzy and every bit of her ached terribly.

 

“It’s okay, Peg,” Steve said, lifting her gently into his arms.  “It’s okay.”

 

She glanced over and saw Michael, standing there watching.  It was dark.  “How?”

 

“It’s our secret, Peggy,” Michael said. “I’ve promised not to tell Agnes.  But he can only stay for a few minutes.”

 

* * *

 

Steve stayed longer than a few minutes, much to Michael’s irritation.  But Steve didn’t give a shit about Michael’s level of comfort.  Steve wasn’t leaving her, not after the things Michael had told him.  Peggy had been so quiet.  She whimpered any time he touched her.  Michael said it was a common side effect of the therapy.

 

“Rogers,” Michael said, nearly pleading.

 

“Okay.  Okay,” he said.  He gave Peggy a kiss, stroked his hand over her hair, and followed Michael out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Steve threw himself down in the chair across from Natasha.  “Tell me you found something on Adams.”

 

“I found something,” she said.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Steve frowned.  “I don’t follow.”

 

“Just what I said,” Natasha explained.  “I found _nothing_ on Adams.  Not one single thing.  Do you have any idea how much paperwork is required to open medical clinics in England and Manhattan?  There should be records.”

 

“And you didn’t find anything?” Steve said, leaning forward.

 

“As far as I can tell,” Natasha said, “prior to 1947, Dr. Harold Adams did not exist.  In England, or anywhere else.”

 

Steve took a deep breath.  “Any idea where he came from?”

 

“You’re not going to like it.”

 

“I already don’t like it,” Steve said sourly.

 

“Germany,” she said.  “It’s my best guess.  A lot of the records were lost, but I found a couple of candidates.  Doctors unaccounted for after the war who fit the general age and physical description we have for Adams.  But you’re going to like this part even less.”

 

Steve already hated it.  “What?”

 

“Two of them were Hydra.  One worked closely with Schmidt.”

 

Steve pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I need to get in touch with some old friends.”

 

* * *

 

Phillips was mad as hell that Steve was ‘dragging him into Carter family business’, but after Steve explained the possible Hydra connection, Phillips got a lot more interested.  Steve wasn’t sure how much Phillips could do, or what pull, if any, he really had in this arena.  But Phillips knew Carter well.  And he cared about her.  And right now, Steve knew Peggy needed all the allies she could get.

 

Dugan, Morita and Falsworth showed up at Steve’s place two days later.  “Fellas,” he said.  “We have a problem.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy was sitting on the park bench when Steve approached.  Michael was standing at the pond’s edge, feeding the ducks.  Taking a seat next to Peggy, Steve took her hand in his.  She looked better.  Still pale, but not nearly so out of it.

 

“How are you?” he asked.

 

“Better,” she said quietly.  She looked toward Michael.  “I still don’t know that I understand what kind of agreement you two came to.”

 

Steve pursed his lips together.  “We both care about you,” he said.  “And we want the best for you.”

 

She nodded, looking at him warily.  She frowned.  “My father and stepmother are visiting next week,” she said.  “I assume to see how I’ve fared in my tasks.”

 

“And?”

 

She snorted.  “You know as well as I do.  Abysmal.”

 

Steve squeezed her hand.  “Peggy.”

 

She looked away, frowning.  “Agnes will tell them I was caught sneaking into the house.  Lottie may also relate the fact that I’ve had an overnight guest on many occasions.  I’m not certain yet where her loyalties lie.  But there’s no hiding that I don’t have a sedate widower on the hook.”

 

He ground his teeth together.  “What about me?” he offered.  “What if you were engaged to me.”

 

She laughed, and then immediately clapped her hand over her mouth apologetically.  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but no.  That would be worse than no fiance at all.”

 

“Why?” he asked sourly.

 

“You’re very ... American,” she said quietly.

 

“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.  “You’re in America to catch a husband.”

 

“Look, I have no complaints about you,” she said.  “I’m quite fond of you.  And your American sensibilities.”  She looked him over.  “And dimensions.”  She shook her head as if to put herself back on track.  “But suffice it to say that neither Dr. Adams, nor Father and Mildred will not be impressed.  It would have been quite the thing to maneuver, even ... before.”

 

He looked at her profile.  She wouldn’t meet his gaze.  “You mean if you’d married me in a huff, rather than Fred.”

 

“Indeed,” she said quietly.

 

He squeezed her hand again.  Their relationship after the war had been so tumultuous, in a way that shocked and wounded them both.  Peggy’s family certainly hadn’t helped.  Or Steve’s press.  And then there was Howard, who made every situation infinitely worse.

 

Steve wasn’t sure how things between them got so off track.  But it seemed like once it did, everything either of them did to try and fix it only compounded their issues.  

 

And then Fred showed up.  Fred, who Steve had never heard of before.  Fred who was Peggy’s former fiance, who knew her from another life.  

 

Fred had won the heart of a girl Steve had never known.  

 

And Steve envied Fred that knowledge so intensely.

 

Not that Steve wished Peggy to somehow return to being the girl who Fred loved.  But Steve hated that Fred had a part of her that Steve would never have.  And it was clear seeing Peggy with Fred that they both belonged to a world that Steve could barely imagine.

 

The Peggy Carter who Steve knew was a tough as nails dame, who could handle a gun as easily as her compact.  She drank too much, and cheated at cards, and shared an apartment with a motley assortment of characters.  She was good in a pinch, and better in a fight.  

 

And Steve loved her with everything he was.

 

But when Peggy was with Fred, she changed.  They’d grown up in the same world.  Steve knew Peggy’s family had money, but he hadn’t realized just how much money.  He hadn’t had a clue just how privileged her life had been.  Fred could talk to her about people and places that Steve didn’t know.  He could take her places Steve couldn’t go.  And Peggy’s family wanted a match between her and Fred so desperately.

 

For all of Fred’s perks, Peggy didn’t love him.  Not the way she loved Steve.  

 

But Steve couldn’t let it go.  And Peggy always had a temper.

 

The fight was unbelievable.  The things both of them said.  Afterward, Steve had been so ashamed of his behavior, and hers.  He had no idea how it spun so completely out of control.  

 

But by the time he pulled himself together enough to try and mend things, she was gone.  He learned through one of her roommates that she’d gone back to England.  He read her wedding announcement in the paper, just like everyone else.  Not so much as a telegram to let him know.

 

Steve swallowed thickly.  “If any American will do, then what’s wrong with me?  My reputation is solid.  I make a good living.  I can take care of you.”

 

She looked at him, reaching over and cupping his face in her hand.  She pulled him close and kissed him softly.  “I want you too much is the problem,” she said morosely.  “Dr. Adams calls you, specifically, a hindrance to my treatment.”

 

He growled in frustration, holding her tight.  “We’re going to fix this, Peggy,” he said.  “No one should have a say in how you live your life. It’s criminal.”

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Steve was curled around Peggy in her tiny little bed.  He wasn’t supposed to be here.  He’d promised Michael he would stay away.  But he couldn’t.

 

Peggy was tracing his hand with her fingers.  “You always had such beautiful hands,” she said.  “Even before the serum.”

 

He let out a little laugh.

 

She looked at him.  “What?”

 

“Beautiful hands?”

 

“Yes,” she said seriously, cupping one of his hands in both of hers.  “They’re lovely.”  She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his as she whispered, “And so very wicked.”

 

“What if we find out just how wicked they can be?” he said, skimming his hand down her body.

 

* * *

 

Steve knew dawn was fast approaching.  He needed to leave, but he waited.  As if on cue, Peggy started moving restlessly.  Steve shook her shoulder and she woke with a gasp.  She blinked at him and then flopped back against the pillows.

 

“What do you dream of?” he asked.

 

She shook her head.  “It depends,” she said.  “Tonight it was Fred.  Covered in blood.”

 

He held her tighter.

 

“I saw him,” she said conversationally.  “At my most recent ... therapy session.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean you saw him?”

 

“When they were ...” she motioned vaguely to her head.  “I saw him.  Standing behind the doctor.  Watching.  He does that sometimes.”

 

“Peggy,” he said carefully, “that doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“I know,” she said quietly.  “And yet, it’s true.”

 

* * *

 

Steve paced his tiny living room, thinking back on Peggy’s words.  Most of the time, she seemed absolutely fine.  She seemed like the Peggy he’d always known.  Tough as nails.  Sexy as hell.  She seemed like she could step right back into the role she’d had during the war without missing a beat.

 

But then there were other times.  The times when she woke up screaming and shaking in the middle of the night, when she casually mentioned seeing her dead husband, when she seemed so completely out of it.  He had no idea how to reconcile those two women.  He knew them both to be Peggy.  But it made no sense.

 

He wondered if her parents didn’t have a point.  Maybe she did need help.  God knew she’d been through trauma.  

 

But even if she did need help, she didn’t need it from Dr. Adams.  What little Natasha had been able to piece together more than convinced Steve that Adams, or whoever the hell he really was, shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Peggy again.

 

Steve should be hearing from Dugan and Falsworth soon.  He just hoped they had news he could use.

 

* * *

 

Steve walked into the club, irritated.  He still hadn’t heard anything from either Dugan or Phillips.  He wanted to see Peggy.  He spotted Michael and crossed the room to him, but he didn’t see any sign of Peggy.

 

“Where is she?”

 

“Good afternoon to you too, Rogers,” Michael said tightly.

 

“Spare me.  Where is she?”

 

Michael sighed, taking a drink.  “At home.  In bed.  She’s unwell.”

 

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked, unaccountably terrified.

 

Michael frowned at him.  “Hard as it may be to imagine, Peggy doesn’t confide every detail to me.  She said she wasn’t feeling well and that I should ‘bugger off’.  I wasn’t particularly inclined to argue.”

 

Steve frowned, turning on his heel.  

 

It didn’t take long to get to Agnes’s house.  Steve hopped the fence, hoping the neighbors weren’t watching and climbed up the terrace and in Peggy’s window.  She was lying on her bed, facing the window and when she saw him, she propped herself up on her elbow, frowning at him.  “You can’t be here,” she hissed.  “Adams is here.”

 

“Here?  Now?” Steve asked.

 

Peggy nodded.  There was a sound of footsteps in the hallway and Peggy pointed at the wardrobe.  Having no idea what else to do, Steve climbed in.  He had just pulled the door closed when Adams walked into the room, flanked by the two orderlies and a nurse.

 

“How are we then?” the doctor asked.  He was probably not much older than Steve, slightly built with receding blond hair.

 

“Much the same,” Peggy said tightly.

 

Adams sighed, pulling a chair over to the bed.  He sat down and examined Peggy.  He took her temperature, her pulse.  He shook his head, frowning.  “You should be resting, my dear.  That last dose we tried was potent.”

 

Peggy just looked at him.  Steve did have to admit she looked bad.  Well, not bad.  She didn’t look like she was dying.  She looked tired and like she was going to -

 

Dr. Adams scooted back quickly as Peggy leaned over the side of the bed, retching into a basin.  The doctor looked deeply uncomfortable.  Peggy went on for a while and Steve began to wonder if she wasn’t doing it just to make Adams squirm.  She finally lay back on the bed, making a face, eyes pressed tightly shut.

 

There was a sharp rap on the door and Peggy’s aunt Agnes entered the room.  “How is she?”

 

“Unchanged,” Adams said.  He nodded to the orderlies.  “I’m going to transfer her to the clinic for observation.”

 

“No,” Peggy said, sitting up in bed, shaking her head.  “No, I’m not going.  I have a stomach bug.  I’m fine.  There are rules.  I don’t have to go to the clinic unless I have an episode.  I haven’t had an episode.  I’m under the weather.”

 

“Margaret,” Adams said, his tone dire.

 

Agnes twisted her hands together.  

 

“Aunt Agnes,” Peggy said, pleading.  “We have an agreement.”

 

Steve had the distinct impression that Agnes probably would have sided with the doctor.  But Adams made the fatal mistake of telling Agnes what was going to happen rather than consulting her.  Steve had seen that same look on Peggy’s face countless times.

 

“I’m afraid Margaret is correct,” Agnes said haughtily.  “We do have an agreement.”

 

“I am her physician - “ Adams started.

 

“Her father and stepmother will be here in several days.  If they agree with your assessment, you may proceed.  But until they give their consent, Margaret is not going anywhere,” Agnes said firmly.

 

Adams was clearly angry.  “I will be back tomorrow,” he announced.

 

Steve watched as everyone filed out of the room.  He stayed where he was for several additional minutes, to be certain, and then climbed out of the wardrobe.

 

On the bed, Peggy jumped.  “Jesus,” she hissed.  “I forgot you were in there.”

 

“Nice to know you care,” Steve replied dryly.  He sat down on the bed next to her.  He ran his hand over her forehead.  She was clammy, but not hot.  At least he didn’t think so.  This wasn’t exactly his area of expertise.  “What’s going on?”

 

“Dysentery,” she said.  “I’m fairly certain I’m dying.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “God, I forgot how awful you are when you catch a cold.  Also, I’m pretty sure dysentery is the other end.”

 

Peggy growled at him, but didn’t say anything.  

 

Steve picked up the empty bottle on her nightstand and sniffed at it, frowning.  It smelled awful.  “Adams gave you this?”

 

She nodded.  “It’ll usually knock me out for a day, but it didn’t do much of anything today.”

 

“I wonder why?”

 

Peggy had her eyes closed again.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

 

Steve finally had to admit to himself that while Peggy might not be feeling great, she didn’t seem in any imminent danger.  And with Adams currently on Agnes’s shit list, he was fairly certain that no one would be transferring Peggy anywhere.

 

“I need to go,” he said.  “I have to try and check in with Dugan.”

 

She looked up at him.

 

“You’ll be okay?” he asked tightly.

 

“I’m fine,” she admitted with a frown.

 

He kissed her forehead and made his way to the window.

 

* * *

 

When Steve got back to his apartment, there was a note from Dugan.  It was the first volley in a game of tag that lasted the entire day and most of the evening.  Steve finally managed to track him down in the back room of a pub in Queens.

 

“Cap!” Dugan bellowed.

 

Frowning, Steve took a seat.  “No, no toasts,” he said.  “I need information.  What did you find?”

 

“That’s the really interesting part,” Dugan said.

 

“How so?”

 

“We didn’t find anything.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “What do you mean?  You didn’t find anything useful?”

 

“Nope,” Dugan said, frowning.  

 

Falsworth, who was considerably more sober gave Steve a hard look.  “We, uh, dug up the grave,” he said quietly.  

 

Steve blinked at them dumbfounded.  “You guys dug up a dead body?”

 

“No,” Falsworth said.  “As it turns out, we didn’t.  The grave was empty.”

  
END CHAPTER


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, folks. I thought I was going to get this wrapped up in 4 chapters, but it's not happening. It's going to be 5 chapters.

Steve spent the rest of the evening pressing Dugan and Falsworth for more information.  Their trip to England hadn’t been a waste, but it hadn’t been a wealth of information either.  Most telling were the things they didn’t find.  Namely, a body in the grave of Frederick Wentworth.  

 

Falsworth did some digging into the Wentworth family finances and discovered that up until three years ago, the Wentworths had fallen on very hard times.  It seemed the family received a large infusion of cash shortly before Fred made a reappearance in Peggy’s life.

 

Steve still needed more hard evidence, but he was piecing things together.  Hydra scientists, enormous sums of money, Fred’s sudden rekindled interest in Peggy.  

 

There were still gaps.  Steve still had no idea what to make of Peggy’s erratic behavior, night terrors and, now, sickness.  It was clear enough to Steve that Hydra wanted something from Peggy.  But what they wanted, and how exactly they thought they were going to get it, he didn’t understand.

 

Steve got back to his apartment shortly before dawn and he fell into bed with his shoes still on.  

 

* * *

 

 

It was afternoon when Steve woke.  He showered and immediately headed for Agnes’s house.  

 

He glanced in Peggy’s bedroom window and saw Adams, the nurse and the orderlies leaving.  Peggy was on the bed, still looking unwell, and now, upset.  Steve waited until he was certain the coast was clear and climbed in the window, immediately gathering her into his arms.

 

“What happened?”

 

She shook her head, burrowing against him.  

 

He waited patiently.  She finally seemed to relax, some of the tension leaving her body.  She still looked too pale, and a bit green around the gills.  “Why was Adams here?” Steve asked.

 

She groaned, finally rolling away from him, onto her back.  She frowned.  “A treatment session,” she said.

 

Steve felt like his insides had frozen.  “What did they do?”

 

Peggy shook her head, pursing her lips together.

 

“ _ Peggy _ .”

 

She gave him a pleading look.  “It sounds  _ insane _ ,” she said, “even in my own head.  I can’t bear to say it aloud.”

 

“Peg,” Steve said carefully, “I don’t have proof yet, but I have a lot of suspicions that Adams is actually a Hydra scientist.  Tell me what happened.”

 

He thought telling her about the Hydra connection might really upset her, but instead it seemed to be a relief.  She looked at him and then away, frowning.  It was clear she was still worried about how it would sound to to him.  That both broke Steve’s heart and infuriated him.  How long had she been surrounded by people who refused to believe her?

 

“He has a ... “  She sighed, clearly frustrated.  “I don’t even know what it is.  Honestly, today’s session is the most I’ve ever been able to remember from one of my treatments.  It’s a ... stone of some type, or jewel perhaps.  I don’t know what it is, but it somehow makes me - “

 

Steve waited, but when she didn’t continue, he prompted, “Makes you?”

 

“Malleable,” she said flatly.  “It’s like I don’t have a mind of my own.  I can’t explain it.  And as I said, I often don’t have a clear memory of what was said or done.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed and he held her closer.  “Michael mentioned the gaps in your memory.”

 

She snorted.  “Gaps.  Yes.  Such a benign term for it.”

 

“I don’t know how.  But I do know that this is coming to an end, Peggy.  No one is going to steal away any more of you,” Steve said firmly. 

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy still wasn’t feeling well and didn’t seem to be improving.  She was nauseated and exhausted.  Steve was beginning to wonder if it was a side effect of whatever it was Adams was doing to her, if her body had finally had enough.  Truthfully, he didn’t know how she’d managed as long as she had.

 

Night had fallen.  It was dark and he was crammed into her little bed with her.  It wasn’t comfortable and they were both too hot, but any time he tried to move away, she made a plaintive sound and pulled him close again.

 

“Do you have any idea when it started?” Steve asked.  “Adams and the stone, I mean?  Was it immediately after you were released into his care?”

 

She was quiet for so long that he didn’t think she was going to answer.  But she finally said, “This is going to sound ridiculous, but I feel like it started much earlier.  I think it merely ramped up once I was officially under his care.”

 

“How much earlier?”

 

She turned toward him and he could just make out her features in the dim light.  “When we started fighting,” she said quietly.  “That probably sounds like the worst sort of excuse, but I don’t have any other explanation for it.”  She took a deep, shaky breath.  “I love you, Steve.  I have for a very long time.  And after we found you in the ice, I swore to myself that I would never let you go again.”

 

“It’s okay, Peggy,” he said.  “I’m here now.”

 

“It’s not okay, Steve.  That’s what I’m trying to tell you.  I think that stone is what caused me to leave in the first place.  I don’t have any other rational explanation for why I would have possibly chosen Fred over you.”

 

Steve held her tighter, kissing her forehead.  “That makes the most sense to me too.  None of the way it happened between us ever sat right with me.”

 

“They wanted me isolated,” she said.  “Why?”

 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been wracking my brain for days.  You have to have something they want.”

 

Peggy was quiet for a long time.  “Schmidt’s cube,” she finally said.  “I was with Howard when he found it.”

 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Steve cursed.  “I told them they should have left that damn thing in the ocean.”

 

“I was there when they found it,” Peggy said, “but I don’t have a clue where it is now.”

 

“Maybe they don’t know that. Maybe they think you still have enough connections to be able to get access.”

 

She looked at him and groaned, screwing her eyes shut.  “Adams has been suggesting for weeks that rekindling old friendships would be helpful in my recovery.  It’s why I had dinner with Howard a few weeks ago.  Adams was very encouraging.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “But he doesn’t want you talking to me.”

 

“Decidedly not,” she agreed.  “You were specifically mentioned multiple times as a person to be avoided.”

 

He shook his head.  “Why me?  I mean, I understand that if they’re trying to find the cube, you seeing me is a waste of time.”

 

“I think that my care for you has always been stronger than their hold on me.  At least in the big picture,” she said quietly.  “I think it’s why they went to such extreme lengths to get me away from you.  But once they realized I didn’t have what they wanted, they had no choice but to send me back here.”

 

He took a deep breath. “There’s more, Peg,” he said.  “Dugan and Falsworth dug into Fred’s past.  Literally.”

 

“And?” she asked warily.

 

“For starters, I don’t think he’s dead.”

 

Peggy was quiet for a very long time.  Finally, she said, “I guess that makes me feel better about occasionally seeing him.”  She shook her head.  “How is this possible?  What is that stone?  How could this happen?”

 

“I have no idea,” Steve said, at a loss.  “But I saw what Schmidt’s cube could do.  The weapons they used it to power.”  He paused.  “It opened a gateway to the other side of the universe.  If the stone that Adams has is anything like the cube, who knows what it’s truly capable of.”

 

“I’m not sure if that make me feel better or not,” she said hollowly.

 

“They set you up,” he said.  “So that damn doctor could have unlimited access to you.  And so they cut could off all your avenues of escape so you had no choice but to do what they said.”

 

“No one believed me,” she said.

 

“By design,” Steve said firmly.  “That was their plan.  To completely discredit you and put you at their mercy.”

 

“They thought they could hollow me out and I’d retrieve the cube for them.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said lightly.  “But instead, you followed your own heart.  You’re strong, Peggy.  Stronger than that stone.”

 

She shook her head.  “I don’t know if that’s true, but I do love you, you know.”

 

“Yeah, Peg.  I know.  I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?”

 

Steve blinked awake, sitting up.  It was morning - late morning.  He was still in Peggy’s bed, wrapped around her.  And there was a couple, who could only be Peggy’s father and stepmother, standing in the doorway staring at them.  “Oh shit.”

 

The next hour was absolute chaos.  Peggy was still sick, and now incredibly angry and upset on top of it.  Steve was doing his level best to try and calm people down, but no one wanted to talk to him.  Michael tried running interference, but that went nowhere fast.

 

Peggy’s father was irate at everyone; Agnes, Peggy, Michael, and, of course, Steve.  The cops were called and they obviously recognized Steve.  Steve was trying to talk his way out of the situation, but Mr. Carter was adamant that he be arrested for trespassing and taking advantage of Peggy.  

 

The cops seemed completely thrown by that last accusation.  At least until Mr. Carter provided proof of Peggy’s commitment paperwork.  At which point the cops became a whole lot less inclined to go easy on Steve.  

 

The cops were leading Steve outside when Adams showed up.  At this point, Steve completely stopped being cooperative, slamming Adams to the ground and throttling him before three cops and four orderlies pulled him off.  

 

Steve was facedown on Agnes’s lawn, with a gun at the back of his skull.  He knew he probably could have fought his way free.  But he also knew that the cops currently thought he was some kind of pervert who had been molesting a mentally unstable woman, so he wasn’t willing to chance it.  He wouldn’t be any good to Peggy if he was dead.

 

Steve watched, livid, as Peggy was loaded into a waiting car.  Michael climbed in with her, his features pinched, obviously unhappy.  Mr. Carter stood on the lawn, watching the commotion.

 

The cops put Steve in cuffs and were just loading him into the back of a cruiser when Brigadier General Chester Phillips showed up.  “Rogers, keep your mouth shut,” Phillips snapped.

 

Steve found himself following orders out of habit.

 

Phillips went inside with Mr. Carter and two of the cops.  Twenty minutes later, Phillips was out the door.  

 

“Take the cuffs off,” Phillips barked.

 

The ranking cop nodded to the two standing near Steve and they turned to him.  Steve held out his hands.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“We have to get her out of there,” Steve snapped.

 

Phillips gave him a warning look.  “Son, we are going to get her out.  But we have to do it right.”

 

Steve huffed, sinking back into his seat as Phillips’ driver made a beeline for the federal courthouse.  Phillips handed Steve a file.  

 

“Far as we can tell, Harold Adams is actually Rudolf Koch, a Hydra scientist who worked closely with Schmidt and Zola.”

 

Steve told Phillips what he knew from Peggy about the stone.  He also relayed the theory he and Peggy hashed out the previous night.  

 

Phillips nodded grimly.  “There have been reports from several former Hydra operatives who mentioned something similar to what you’re describing.”  He took a deep breath and blew it out harshly.  “I always knew Carter was tough.”

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

 

Phillips looked over his shoulder at Steve.  “By all accounts, that damn rock turned some of Hydra’s top soldiers into flying monkeys in no time flat.  Carter’s been fighting it for years, and it sounds like she’s winning.”

 

Steve nodded, sinking back against the seat.  She’d been fighting it.  But right now, Steve needed her away from Adams or Koch or whatever the hell his name was as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

Steve understood that matters progressed quickly, but it still seemed to take forever as Phillips had a closed door session with a federal judge and secured arrest warrants for Adams/Koch and all his staff.  The judge also voided any and all paperwork that in any way impinged upon Peggy’s autonomy.

 

By the time Steve and Phillips arrived at the clinic, there were already dozens of SHIELD agents present, backed up by cops.  Steve scanned the crowd, searching vainly for Peggy.  There was no sign of her.  No sign of Michael either.

 

Steve looked at Phillips and he just waved Steve forward. “Go,” he snapped.  “We want Koch alive if you can manage it.”

 

* * *

 

 

The clinic was a warren of treatment rooms and offices.  Steve heard the commotion and bolted up the three flights of stairs.  He found a dozen SHIELD agents and Michael clustered around a heavy steel door with a window in it.

 

“Rogers,” Michael called, waving him forward.

 

Steve pushed aside several of the SHIELD officers and looked.  Inside the room, Peggy was holding Koch at gunpoint.  Steve took in the scene in a moment.  He knew that Koch had been planning to clean up his mess and high tail it to parts unknown.  It looked like Peggy threw a wrench in his plans.

 

Steve was vaguely aware of Michael herding the SHIELD agents down the hall.  “Peg,” Steve called, “Phillips wants him alive.”

 

She didn’t respond to him.  She held the gun steady.  There was no way she would miss, especially at this range.

 

“Peggy,” Steve said quietly.  “Please.  Let’s just end this and go home.”

 

“He stole my life,” Peggy snapped.

 

“He tried,” Steve said.  “He tried.  And he made a hell of a mess.  But he didn’t steal your life, Peg.  It’s yours.  Phillips has all the paperwork.  Everything is how it should be.”

 

She glanced over at him.

 

“Let’s go,” he said.  “Please.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve stood at Peggy’s side as Koch was handcuffed and led away by Phillips’ men.  Phillips stood in the corner, glowering.

 

“Sir, what do we do about this?” a technician asked.  He was staring at the stone, which had an eerie yellow glow.

 

“Rogers,” Phillips snapped.  “Pick that damn rock up and put it in that lead case.”

 

Steve started to move and Peggy immediately grabbed his arm.  She glared at Phillips.  “Why does Steve have to pick it up?”

 

“Because,” Phillips said dourly, “ _ Steve _ is one of the few people it doesn’t affect.  Theoretically.”

 

Peggy shook her head.  “How do you know that?”

 

“Because it didn’t work on Schmidt either, according to Zola.  Side effect of the genetic changes the serum caused.  It’s why Schmidt loved the damn rock so much.  He could use it to create a mindless army, all the while being in no danger of being affected.  At least Schmidt liked the idea until Koch took off with the stone after we started torching Hydra bases.”

 

Peggy frowned, but let go of Steve’s arm.  

 

Cautiously, Steve picked up the stone.  Aside from the glow, it didn’t seem remarkable.  He set it in the lead case the technician held.

 

Phillips sighed as the stone was removed from the room.  He turned and nodded to Peggy.  “Come on,” he said.  “We still need to get you checked out.”

 

“Absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head.  “I am through with being poked and prodded.”

 

“Dammit, Carter,” Phillips groused, “nobody’s going to put you in a padded room.  They just want to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“I’m fine,” she said firmly.

 

“You just blew chunks all over Corporal Harris.”

 

Peggy frowned, flushing.  “I threw up  _ near _ him, not  _ on  _ him.”

 

“Peggy,” Steve said gently.

 

“Oh fine,” she snapped.

  
END CHAPTER


	5. Chapter 5

Steve had been hoping there would be a nurse outside with a stethoscope and thermometer and then he and Peggy could be on their way, but they were both out of luck.  Rather than having Peggy report to the nearest Army base, they were sent to the office of a private physician who was expecting them.

 

It was early evening and Steve sat in the empty waiting room with the aforementioned Corporal Harris, who looked eager to have this over with so he could get away from Peggy and Steve.  Steve didn’t necessarily blame him.  

 

The examination seemed to take forever, but Peggy finally entered the waiting room, pulling her sweater tighter around her body.

 

“Everything okay?” Steve asked, rising to stand.

 

She nodded.  

 

Steve escorted her outside.  One of Phillips’ men had brought Steve’s car to the doctor’s office.  “You hungry?” he asked as he headed back to Brooklyn.  

 

“Starving,” she said.

 

“Do they know why you’ve been sick?” Steve asked cautiously.

 

She didn’t immediately respond.  Finally, she said, “The doctor isn’t worried about it.  It should resolve in a couple of weeks.”

 

Steve looked over at her.  “Weeks?”

 

She nodded.  “He drew a good deal of blood.  It has to be sent to the lab for processing.  Phillips is quite interested to see if it can provide clues as to how I was able to hold out against the stone for as long as I did.”

 

“Did the doctor have any ideas?” Steve asked.

 

Peggy shook her head.  “Not exactly.  As we discussed, recently it became much easier for me to retain my own sense of self during my sessions with Ad - _ Koch _ .  So I have a good idea of what the bloodwork is going to show.”

 

Steve had no idea what that meant.  “And?”

 

She sighed.  “I expect my bloodwork will be similar, in certain respects, to your bloodwork.  And Schmidt’s I suppose, though I don’t particularly care for that association.”

 

Steve frowned, pulling into a parking spot in front of a diner.  “Why would your bloodwork look like mine?”

 

“Because I’m pregnant,” she said, “with your child.”  She sat there, staring out the windshield, hands folded in her lap.

 

“ _ Huh _ ?” Steve managed.

 

She turned and looked at him.  “I’m ... pregnant,” she said again, frowning.  “It’s the source of the nausea and exhaustion, apparently.  I told the doctor he was daft when he suggested it, but he was ... quite convincing.”

 

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it again.  “You said you couldn’t have children.”

 

“Indeed,” she said firmly, lips pursed together.  “It appears I was wrong.  About so many things.”

 

“I, uh - “  Steve started and realized he had no idea what to say.  He opened his mouth again and then closed it.  Finally, having no idea what else to do he got out of the car and walked around, opening Peggy’s door.  She climbed out of the car without a word.

 

Together they walked into the diner and took a seat.  They gave the waitress their orders, and sat in the booth, across from one another. 

 

“I - “ Steve started again.  He stopped, took a deep breath.  “Should I apologize?”

 

She looked at him.  “Are you sorry?”

 

“Only if you are.”

 

She frowned at him.  “I’m ...”  She stopped.  “I’m not sure what I am to be honest.  It’s quite unexpected.”

 

He nodded.  “Tonight,” he said cautiously, “where do you want to go?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

He swallowed.  “I assumed you would come home with me.  But if you would rather go to your aunt’s.  Or somewhere else.”

 

“No, I, “ she said.  She frowned.  “Yes.  I would like to stay with you.  For a while at least.  There’s so much to sort through.”

 

Steve nodded, relieved.  At least she wasn’t pushing him away.  The waitress arrived with their food and they both ate mechanically.  Steve was glad to see that Peggy was able to eat, and didn’t seem to be feeling unwell at the moment.  He still felt numb to the news of the pregnancy.

 

* * *

 

 

There was no way around it, the rest of the evening was awkward.  Steve had lost count of the number of times Peggy had been in his apartment, and his bed.  None of it was new.  But neither of them seemed to have any idea what to say or do.

 

They finally climbed into bed together and turned off the lights.  That seemed to help matters a bit.  Steve pulled Peggy close, wrapping his arms around her.  “I love you,” he said.

 

She didn’t say anything, but she held him tighter.  She finally pulled away.  It was dark and Steve couldn’t see her.  She took a deep breath.  “I realize now that all of my memories for the last several years are suspect,” she said quietly.  “But I swear to you, I truly did believe that I couldn’t have children.  This wasn’t some ploy to trap you.”

 

Steve laughed before he could stop himself.  “Sorry,” he said tightly.

 

He could feel the tension in Peggy’s body.  He’d just screwed up.  “Sorry,” he said again, contrite.  “It’s just ... Peggy I’ve been yours since the day you knocked Hodge on his ass at Camp Lehigh.  There would be no point in trapping me.  I’m yours.  Always.”

 

He wished like hell he could see her, because she wasn’t saying anything.

 

“Peg,” he said quietly, “I love you.  I want you.  I know you’ve been through so much, so I’m not crazy about the idea of adding a kid to the list of things to deal with right now, but I want to be with you.  However you’ll have me.”

 

Peggy didn’t say anything, but Steve could tell she was crying.  He pulled her close again and she pressed herself against him.  He buried his face in her hair.  “I love you,” he said again.

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of days were a blur.  Peggy stayed with Steve.  Michael moved all of her things from Agnes’s house.  It wasn’t much.  Steve didn’t have much in the way of possessions, so it was fine.

 

Steve tried not to eavesdrop, but it sounded like the Carter family was in upheaval, with the revelation of exactly what had been done to Peggy.  As far as Steve was aware, they didn’t know about the baby.  Yet.

 

The Carters didn’t have the whole truth, but close enough.  They knew that Peggy had been targeted because of her service during the war, that she had been horribly misused, and that Fred’s death had been a sham to have Peggy manipulated into being under Koch’s care.

 

From what little Peggy had said, Steve knew that Michael and her father, especially, were having a hard time coming to grips with how much they had abetted what was done to Peggy.  Steve knew that was hard for Peggy to take.  She was dealing with her own reactions, and it was made doubly harder by seeing them so upset on her behalf.  

 

Steve knew that Peggy was having a hard time.  But in typical Peggy fashion, she wasn’t talking to him - or anyone else - about that, so far as he knew.

 

Phillips’ men had finally tracked down Fred, who claimed to have no memory of anything for the last four years.  Steve didn’t know if he bought that or not.  He was going to let Phillips sort it out.  For now, Fred was sequestered by SHIELD, which was just fine with Steve.

 

Steve looked up as Peggy walked out of the bathroom, frowning.  She’d been sick again.  Honestly, Steve couldn’t tell if it was getting any better or not.  He reached out and she let him pull her close.

 

“How did the doctor’s appointment go today?” he asked cautiously.

 

Peggy was quiet.  “My health history is still a bit of a mystery,” she said, pulling away from him.  He watched as she took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it from the tap.

 

“Meaning what?  What are they looking for?”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “I don’t know that they’re necessarily looking for anything specific.  Right now they’re going through the Sokovian medical records, trying to determine how much was real.”  She sighed.  “So far it looks like a good deal of what was recorded was legitimate.  Broken wrist.  Broken orbital bone.  As for the miscarriage and damage, no one knows and they’re not in a position to do much investigation right now, which is a bit of a blessing.”

 

“Peggy.”

 

She looked at him, frowning.  “I know I was injured,” she said.  “But that’s all I know.  I can’t trust my memory.  Maybe Fred did inflict them under the influence of Koch and the stone.  Maybe something else entirely happened.  I simply don’t know.”

 

Steve tried to reach out, but she backed away.

 

“I finally have what I thought I wanted,” she said bitterly.  “I’ve been vindicated.  Everyone believes me.  I have my autonomy back.”  She sighed.  “But I feel more lost than ever.  Because no one knows anything.  Not even me.  Perhaps Howard can find something.  Apparently SHIELD is letting him tinker with that damn stone.”

 

* * *

 

 

Time ground forward.  Peggy was living with Steve.  She bought new pillows for the bed and made him haul his favorite chair out to the curb, so he was pretty sure she intended to stay.  Her nausea finally seemed to have passed and there was a definite swell to her lower abdomen.  But she still didn’t want to talk about the future.

 

Steve had given her a ring, down on a knee and everything.  She hadn’t answered.  And she wasn’t wearing the ring.

 

The fact that Fred wasn’t dead presented somewhat of an issue, but nothing insurmountable as far as Steve could tell.  Peggy wanted an annulment.  Ordinarily it would have been out of the question.  However, given the specifics of the case, Phillips assured them it was going to happen.  Steve was unclear on exactly how much pull Chester Phillips had with the Church of England or the British government, but he seemed determined, so Steve stayed out of it.

 

Peggy and Steve shared a bed.  They were still sleeping together, in every sense of the term.  Steve hoped she just needed time.  He had time.  But losing Peggy again would probably kill him.

 

He watched as Peggy growled, trying to rig together a closure for her skirt that would accommodate her expanding waist.  She finally threw up her hands, cursing and sat down on the edge of the bed.

 

Steve looked at her the way he’d once looked at Dernier’s explosives.  “Peg?” he said gently.

 

“I’m fine,” she snapped.  That was her answer for every question these days.

 

Carefully, Steve sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her.  She sagged against him, sobbing bitterly.  He held her for a long time.  

 

Finally, the storm seemed to pass.  She pulled back, looking at him.  “I’m sorry.”

 

He leaned forward, kissing her gently.

 

* * *

 

 

Months passed.  Steve and Peggy were still living together.  The annulment had been processed.  Peggy’s family knew about the baby.  If they objected, Peggy hadn’t told him about it.  And no one had said anything to Steve, other than an incredibly awkward congratulations from Michael.  And the dirty looks Steve now received regularly from his landlady.

 

Peggy still wasn’t wearing Steve’s ring.  And she didn’t want to talk about anything.  

 

Occasionally, they would see the Howlies, or Howard.

 

“You guys married yet?” Morita asked Steve one night when they were all out to dinner.

 

Steve shook his head.

 

Morita didn’t anything, but he leaned over and clapped Steve on the shoulder.  

 

Steve had no idea what anyone thought.  Most everyone knew he and Peggy were living together.  She was very obviously in a family way.  He chafed at the idea that people would think he was refusing to man up, but he was very hesitant to push.  

 

* * *

 

 

There was a scare, in Peggy’s eighth month.  Premature labor, the doctor assured Peggy.  They wouldn’t talk to Steve, or let him see her outside of visiting hours.  They looked at him with open disapproval.

 

The doctors gave Peggy fluids and sent her home to rest.  She still wasn’t talking to Steve.

 

He was finally starting to get really upset.

 

“You’re angry,” she said, looking at him, her expression unreadable.  She was in bed, propped up with pillows and a cup of tea.

 

He shrugged, looking at her.  “I’d like it if my kid wasn’t born a bastard,” he said flatly.  “That’s all.”

 

Steve got to sleep on the couch that night.

 

The next morning, they were at the courthouse on Peggy’s orders.  They’d done the bloodwork for the license months ago.  Steve suspected it was one of the less joyous marriages the judge had ever officiated.  Steve was learning to take it all in stride.

 

Later that night, Peggy was sitting on the bed, removing her jewelry.  She looked at the wedding ring and said quietly, “I suppose this isn’t how you imagined it.”

 

He sighed.  “Which time?”

 

She twisted to look at him.  “Pardon?”

 

He shrugged.  “I imagined it at Camp Lehigh, on the USO tour, in frozen basements and sweltering haylofts in the field.”  He took a deep breath.  “I imagined it after they thawed me out, when we were together before Fred.”  He paused.  “I imagined it a lot after you took off with Fred.”  

 

He shook his head.  “At this point, I’m done imagining.  It has no relevance.  We’re married.  We’re going to have a kid.  This is what I want.  And it’s real.  So it is by definition infinitely better than anything I imagined.”

 

She frowned at him, her bottom lip quivering.

 

Steve moved, walking around and kneeling next to the bed, clasping their hands together in her lap.  “Peg, I know how much was stolen from you.  But I can’t begin to imagine what that feels like.”

 

She looked at him, her eyes glassy.

 

“I love you,” he said.  “I don’t expect you to be magically happy or content after everything you went through.  But I worry about you.  And I want to help you.  And you keep shutting me out.”  He shook his head.  “As much as I want to be with you, I don’t want you with me if you’re doing it because you feel like you have to, like it’s what is expected of you.  I just - “

 

“You’re the only thing I know for certain,” Peggy said, interrupting, her voice thick.  “You’re the  _ only _ thing that I know for certain that I wanted  _ for me _ .”

 

Steve watched her, having a very good idea of how much that admission cost her.

 

She swallowed thickly, blinking as she looked away.  “Koch didn’t want me anywhere near you.  He tried to keep us apart.  But I wanted you enough to fight through it.”  She met his gaze.  “I still want you.”

 

He looked up at her, giving her a watery smile, nodding.  “That’s a hell of a start, Mrs. Rogers.”

 

END CHAPTER


	6. Chapter 6

Charles Chester Rogers arrived redfaced and squalling, a week past his due date.  Agnes declared he looked like Peggy’s late mother, and the rest of the Carters nodded sagely.  Steve thought his son looked like one of those hairless cats he’d seen in a pet store window, but he kept that to himself.

Steve had been afraid that the stress of a baby might be too much for Peggy.  But she seemed to blossom.  She smiled and laughed, in ways she hadn’t in recent memory.  Something tightly wound inside of her seemed to slowly uncoil and soften.  

Charlie was a topic of conversation that Peggy could share with her father and Michael without any guilt or recriminations.  It helped that Charlie was a happy baby, chubby and contented.  He slept well, ate like a champ, and seemed in a perpetual good mood - all of which, Steve took credit for.

Steve, Peggy and Charlie became a family.  A real family.  Charlie gave both Steve and Peggy someone to worry about, shifting the focus off Peggy.  It was a welcome relief to both of them.  It gave them more space, mentally and emotionally, if not physically.  It gave them time to begin to mend.

There were still so many unanswered questions about Peggy’s past.  But Charlie forced them to live in the moment.  And as Peggy had stated, Steve was the one bit of comfort Peggy had sought out for herself, despite Koch’s machinations.  Her connection to Steve, her desire for him, had been her own doing, false memories or not.  And Charlie was an extension of that need.  Their little family, for better or for worse, was something they forged together completely separate from Schmidt’s gem.

  
  


* * *

 

Charlie was six months old when Howard knocked on the Rogerses’ door with a proposition.

“A cognitive recalibration?” Steve repeated.  “What does that mean, Howard?”

“A knock in the head,” Peggy said flatly.

Howard shrugged.  “That would do it, but, uh, no.  Different methods.  Similar results.  Something to reset the brain.  In our testing, recalibration seems to negate the effect of the stone.”

“And your subjects’ memories returned?” Peggy asked.

Howard nodded.  “So far, yeah.  A dozen test cases.  It completely restored their self-awareness and they were later able to recall everything that happened to them while they were under the influence of the stone.”

Peggy looked at Steve and he could tell she was interested.  Steve turned to Howard, frowning.  “You still haven’t told us how.”

Howard paused, brow furrowing.  “Shock treatment, under anesthesia, with muscle relaxants to minimize any potential damage.”

Peggy paled, but her expression was resolute.  “How soon can we proceed?”

“Peg -” Steve started.

Peggy held up her hand, her attention focused on Howard.  “How soon?”

“Tomorrow,” Howard said.  “If you’re up to it.”

“I am.”

 

* * *

 

Steve looked at Peggy as she left Charlie’s room.  Her features were tight and he knew that she was spoiling for a fight.

“I worry is all,” he said quietly.

She sighed, seeming to deflate a bit.  “I know, Steve.  But I have to do this.  I can’t go on not knowing.  Not when there’s a chance to get back some of what I lost.”

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “I just wish you didn’t have to risk so much to get it.”

She shrugged.  “It’s my shot and I’m taking it.”

  
  


* * *

 

Steve stood as Peggy roused.  He took a seat on the edge of the bed.  She looked a little pale, but that was about it.  He’d expected worse.  “How do you feel?”

She seemed to take inventory and nodded.  “Okay.  Not great, but manageable.”

He took a deep breath.  “Do you remember anything?” 

She was quiet for a long time and then nodded, her eyes glassy.  “Yes,” she said.  “I suspect it will probably take some time to sort through things, but yes.”

Steve nodded and leaned down, kissing her on the forehead.

 

* * *

 

Peggy was quiet on the ride to Agnes’s, to pick up Charlie.  Steve didn’t push.  It was hard enough having one set of memories, let alone two to reconcile.  Peggy was pensive the rest of the day, absorbed in Charlie.

That night, in bed, Peggy curled against Steve, resting her head on his chest.  “Most of what I remembered is exactly the way it happened,” she said quietly.  “I don’t know what I expected.  Perhaps that every moment we were apart had been perverted.  But there were only moments that were different.”

Steve lay there, his hand rubbing up and down her back, listening.

“The times where Koch altered my memory had to do with my direct dealings with him.  Any time he questioned me about Schmidt’s cube, he stole those memories.”  She took a deep breath.  “But he influenced my actions so much.  It’s as if he took me out and put something else inside.”

Steve squeezed her lightly, kissing her forehead.  “You found your way back, in spite of all of it.”

She shrugged.

“You’re still you, Peggy,” he said.  “Koch may have influenced you, but he couldn’t change who you are at your core.”

“One wonders,” she said bitterly.

Steve cleared his throat.  “And Fred?”

“He inflicted my injuries,” she said quietly.  “But I don’t think it was truly him, anymore than it was truly me.  Fred was a disappointment in many ways, but he was never a cruel man.  I suspect his physical violence was Koch’s doing.”

She took a deep breath.  “I’ll speak to Phillips about it.”

Steve held her tighter.  As much as he hated it, he understood.  Forgiving Fred was a step to her forgiving herself.  They’d both been pawns for Koch.  Personally Steve didn’t care if Fred had been a pawn.  He still wanted to knock that guy into next week.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy was more quiet than usual for many weeks after the cognitive recalibration.  Steve tried to keep a close watch on her, without hovering.  He knew there was still so much anger over what had been done to her, and Steve didn’t begrudge her any of it.

They were in the park one afternoon with Charlie.  He was grasping onto two of Steve’s fingers, practicing walking on a winding path.  Peggy was sitting on a nearby bench, watching.

Steve eventually led Charlie over to Peggy.  They sat down on the grass, looking up at Peggy.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

She gave him a tight smile and nodded.  She looked better, though it was still clear how much a toll the events of the last few years had taken on her.  She took a deep breath.  “There’s a hearing for Fred next week.  I’m going to go.”

Steve frowned, pursing his lips together.  “Are you sure?”

She nodded, looking away.  “He was as much of a victim in this as I was.  Fred and I didn’t suit, but he didn’t deserve to be turned into Koch’s patsy.  He definitely doesn’t deserve to take the fall for actions beyond his control.”

Steve nodded.  “And you’re sure it won’t be too much for you?”

She shrugged.  “I’m not looking forward to it.  The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.  But it's something I have to do.  I can’t sit by and let this continue.”

 

* * *

 

Steve sat at the back of the room as Peggy spoke so clearly and eloquently on Fred’s behalf.  The officer overseeing the proceedings had many questions for her, all of which she answered with ease.

They dismissed her and she took a seat next to Steve, lacing her fingers through his.

The hearing went on for some time, but the outcome was that Fred was released.  He was not found to be complicity with Hydra.  Steve knew the British government was probably going to have a lot to sort out in terms of his faked death, but at least Fred wouldn’t be trying to do that from inside a holding cell.

 

* * *

 

That night, at home, Steve watched Peggy cuddle Charlie as they danced around the cramped living room.  She seemed lighter, somehow.  Not free from burdens, just a little lighter.

After she put Charlie to bed, Steve caught her hand and guided her back to the living room again.  He turned on the radio and found a station playing slow songs.  He smiled at her and pulled her close.

She went to him easily and they slow danced in their living room.

“Did you find what you needed?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, her gaze playing over his face.  “I definitely found what I needed.”

He kissed her, soft and slow, and she curled against his chest, swaying in time with the music.

  
END STORY


End file.
